


High Fashion

by DancingInTheRain34



Series: High Fashion [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Class Differences, Cultural Differences, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Gen, Mistaken Identity, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Bilbo, On Hiatus, Royalty, Thorin Has No Sense Of Direction, Worried!Ori
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-15 15:55:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancingInTheRain34/pseuds/DancingInTheRain34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A cultural misunderstanding results in the whole company believing Bilbo to be a prince. Meanwhile, Bilbo has no idea what he did to make the dwarves be so unexpectedly nice to him and while he's half enjoying it, it's starting to feel a bit odd. What's a hobbit to do?</p><p>Currently on hiatus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Bilbo perched on his tiptoes to peek hesitantly through the window into the shop. Through the murky glass, he could make out the faint flicker of a lit candle and a large shadow that moved around, blocking the warm light. Aside from Gandalf, he had rarely seen the big folk before and found himself hovering nervously at the door.

Upon arriving in Bree, both looking and feeling like a pack of wet rats, the company had decided to stop for two nights to ‘restock the supplies’ and to ‘further plan out the route’. Considering that the route had already been planned out-Bilbo may or may not have sneaked a peek at Balin’s maps to make sure that they were indeed going the right way and Thorin ‘Lost my way twice’ Oakenshield wasn’t leading them wrong-and what little supplies they had needed had already been replaced, Bilbo highly suspected that this was simply a means to allow the company to dry off.

Whilst the rest of the company elected to stay at the inn Gandalf had chosen, (What was it called again? The Dancing Pony?), their poor drowned hobbit was going to go out and buy a coat. Although Dwalin had offered him a spare cloak, which a dripping wet Bilbo had eagerly accepted-and what a pleasant surprise that had been from the fierce looking dwarf-he couldn’t deny that he really did need to buy his own.

‘And a nice, warm, hobbit-sized one too, which you won’t be getting if you stay out here all day.’ He told himself firmly, willing up his courage and opening the door.

Once inside, he caught only a quick glimpse of the many swathes of sturdy looking fabric leaning side by side against the wall, before a bulky woman, presumably the tailor, noticed him and stood in front, blocking his view.

“Well then young lad, do you need something?” She asked sharply. “Because otherwise you can get right out of my shop. I don’t need any young boys in here making trouble.”

“I, erm...” Bilbo stuttered, surprised by her strict tone. She had mistaken him for a child! “I’m a hobbit actually. Erm, from the Shire. Bilbo Baggins at your service. Not a lad. Just here for a bit actually, not going to be staying long.” Aware that he was rambling, (and by the Green Lady, did he actually say ‘At your Service’? The dwarves must be rubbing off on him), Bilbo cast his mind around to find something to say that was actually of relevance.

“Gandalf sent me?”

**********

The final morning of their short stay in Bree came too quickly for Bilbo who would sorely miss sleeping in a warm, if slightly uncomfortable and smelly (because it was Bree after all) bed. _At least it'll be warmer now,_ he decided optimistically, inspecting his new coat.

It was nice. The tailor, though rather embarrassed after the initial misunderstanding, had obviously worked hard to manufacture such a good quality one in the short time Bilbo had given her. Made with a robust, dark green fabric, the coat and the hood were also lined with some lovely fur for warmth. It had been expensive but Bilbo suspected it would be worth it, for even in summer it would surely be cold to cross the misty mountains and camping outside was always a chilly affair, despite the camp fire.

Bearing all this in mind, he could only feel offended when polite, young Ori yelped at the sight of it.

"Well now!" He cried, patting his coat down around him and assessing himself, "I thought it looked quite good!"

Ori, who had already turned extremely pale, now looked like he had seen a ghost. "Of course, Bil-Mr Baggins, sir. My, my grave apologies! I didn't realise you were- The coat is lovely, lovely, of course sir!"

Bilbo just stared at him, completely flummoxed.

"Sir?" He questioned cautiously, "Where's Sir come from?"

This only served to fluster poor Ori further and he quickly made his excuses amidst a flurry of stumbling apologies, before standing, giving Bilbo a very strange kind of nod (so low it was almost a bow) and scurrying off to join his brothers.


	2. Chapter 2

Ori half ran away from Bilbo, heart pounding as he did so. Ignoring his brothers (who were arguing yet again), he sat himself down to think things through and help to calm his racing mind. He couldn't quite believe it.

To think, their burglar a prince! He felt sick at the thought; how could it possibly be that not a single dwarf among them had realised?! True, it hadn't been obvious but now that he began to consider it, the pieces were starting to fall into place. The hobbit hole (smial as Bilbo had insisted) that was certainly larger and nicer than any others that they had passed... The fact that Bilbo - Master Baggins, he surely couldn't afford to name a fully fledged _prince_ with such familiarity - although clearly educated, lacked any clear sign of a profession... The fancy china and the silver cutlery... And now the coat.

Mahal's hammer, the clues had been right in front of him! At the very least, he should've known that Bil-Master Baggins was a member of the nobility. And besides –

\- Oh Mahal.

The fancy china. That they had thrown. All over the hobbit’s nice, roomy, _royal_ home. Not to mention the pillaging of the pantry. Ori didn’t even want to think about what had happened in the bathroom, (note to self, never, ever invite Bombur over for a meal. _Ever_.)

Ori gulped. The behaviour towards the hobbit had not improved. Though he was certainly not treated cruelly - the company did take care to make sure that everybody was fed, healthy and well rested and none would wish harm upon him - it couldn’t be denied that he was constantly mocked and excluded from the group. The look of pure surprise on Bilbo’s face when Dwalin had offered his spare cloak to the drenched hobbit (though extremely comedic), was testament to how low his opinion must be of them. Even had he been a commoner, it would be reprehensible. As a royal however...

The consequences of displeasing a prince would be harrowing. And unfortunately, it looked like they had done just that.

He had to tell Dori. He would know what to do.

**********

"No." Dori decided firmly. "You must be wrong."

Ori glared at his brother. Disbelief he had expected, of course, but this harsh negation was unfair. Dori shifted uncomfortably. Ori's gaze wasn't particularly fierce, he looked more like a kitten trying to be a warg than anything else - it made Dori want to coo and stroke his baby brother's hair - but he knew that Ori hated it when Dori didn't take him seriously.

“We would know! Gandalf would have told us.” Dori reasoned.

“But-“ Ori tried to butt in but his brother continued, determined to state his logic.

“Your only evidence is the fact that the Halfling has a big house and a full larder! He’s well off, Ori. That does not magically make him a prince.” He heaved a great sigh. His brother was still so sweet and naive, still little more than a baby really. Imagining their pathetic burglar to be a prince! “You know Gandalf would’ve mentioned it, Ori. Don’t be silly.”

“I’M NOT BEING SILLY!” Ori yelled much louder than he had intended, catching the attention of those near him. He flushed and lowered his tone. “Dori, this is _important_! If I’m right and I’m not saying I am, I’m saying that it’s a distinct _possibility_ , then... We. Are. All. In. Big. Trouble.” He emphasised. “And franky, I expect that Gandalf thought that we wouldn’t be such clotheaded _fools_ as not to notice!" He hissed.

“Ori!” Dori objected.

Ori paused for breath, ignoring his brother’s shrill exclamation. “He’s wearing a fur coat.” He admitted, gaze fixed firmly on the ground. He waited silently for his brother’s (probably extremely loud) reaction but heard nothing. He flicked his eyes up cautiously, only to see Dori’s thunderstruck face. He was blinking and a few times his mouth opened, only to close again like a fish. His brother was completely lost for words.

Sighing, Ori adjusted his position on his log. This might take a while.

Eventually, Dori managed to get his vocal cords functioning again. It wasn’t, Ori thought dryly, a remarkable example of dwarven eloquence.

“Caragu rukhs.”

**********

 A small moth was hovering around the camp fire. Around and around the flames it flew, yet cautious or wise enough to know not to fly recklessly into it’s heart’s desire. Bilbo stared at it dully. He was so _bored._ And deep down he knew that he was upset too, although he was not fool enough to declare that to any of the dwarves, (or _dwarrow_ as he had been told icily by one of them – Gloin, wasn’t it? – in response to one of his fumbling attempts to start a conversation.)

Whatever he tried, the dwarves remained suspicious and closed off and every time he tried to reach out towards them, he was mocked, argued with or quite simply ignored. While Bilbo had now gotten quite used to the pointed looks and muttering, to the extent that it didn’t bother him so much, he was in a particularly glum mood tonight.

Fili and Kili had put frogs in his rucksack that morning. Again. Whilst Bilbo didn’t actually mind this too much, (he was quite fond of frogs to be honest), they had left his freshly cleaned clothes all grimy and horrible. Even more annoyingly, he had slipped and fallen whilst searching for a grass snake to put in their bags in retaliation, leaving muck on his lovely new coat. Which, if you thought about it was all Fili and Kili’s fault.

He hadn’t found a snake either. Tricky little nippers.

He had had another run in with Thorin too, after daring to comment on the ‘validity of his directions’, aka Thorin _Fiddlesticking_ Oakenshield’s complete inability to read a map.

Did the almighty Thorin not realise that they had been heading in a circle?! Yes, Bilbo understood that he was the leader of the company, but that didn’t mean he actually had to _lead_. All the poor hobbit had gotten for his trouble was more mockery. “Silence Halfling. I expect that if I were to take your directions we would only end up back in the Shire for your handkerchiefs.”

Bilbo huffed. Halfling! Of all the derogatory terms. Hmph. He had given up at that point and decided not to tell Thorin the truth, that if they kept going the way he was leading, then they would indeed end up back in the Shire. Good riddance.

What was truly upsetting Bilbo however, was a different matter. Ori, one of the only dwarves that had seemed to be even vaguely friendly or accepting of Bilbo’s presence, was completely avoiding him and had been since last night. A cursory glance around the camp site showed him to be deep in discussion with Dori, with both of them pausing occasionally to send shifty glances towards him, as they had been doing all day.

Honestly.

Did they think that they were actually being _subtle_?

Fed up, Bilbo got to his feet and started walking over to figure out what was the matter. He liked to think that he had made at least one friend in the company and if Ori had decided something was going to change that, he wanted to at least know why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caragu rukhs - Orc dung
> 
> Hi everybody! I know I mentioned posting the plot bunny for the fic in the notes, in the comments for last chapter but actually I don't want to 'spoiler' anybody, so please tell me in the comments if you want me to post it or not, otherwise so I might hold it off for when the fic starts getting into the plot a bit more. Also, this is unbetaed so if you notice any errors, please tell me!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

The two dwarves, now even more drawn into their discussion, had their heads tucked closely together not noticing as a scowling Bilbo made his way steadily closer, even when he stepped up right in front of them. When Bilbo coughed lightly to when announce his presence (he was a hobbit after all, and the very polite Baggins kind at that), they immediately sprang apart, guilty eyes widening as they took in his small figure. In fact, they both looked remarkably like startled rabbits.

Bilbo drew himself up, ready to commence his little speech.

Right.

Well.

They were staring rather intensely.

Bilbo shuffled his feet slightly, as the Tookish self righteousness that had driven him over apparently had just suddenly decided it had better things to do and places to see, and was quickly replaced by a more Bagginsy nervousness. The words had died in his throat.

Why were Ori and Dori staring at him like that?! Had he horribly offended them without realising it? This was not actually as unlikely as he might have imagined before agreeing to the quest; it turned out that there was a positive plethora of new and exciting ways one might offend a dwarf - as he had been discovering all too often with the company. Really, how was he to know that the dwarven language was secret?! The amount that the company spoke it, honestly, it was anything but. And really, that admiring another’s weapon was tantamount to a courtship offer?! (This disturbing, new knowledge was due to Bilbo’s increasingly desperate attempts to find _suitable_ conversation topics, of which there seemed distressingly few.)

‘Come on.’ Bilbo told himself. ‘Best to get down to business’.

“Ori, what is wro-” Bilbo began sternly-

-Just to be cut off by Ori himself who had apparently also just plucked up his courage enough to start the conversation. “Mr Baggins Sir! How-“

They both paused, Ori looking mortified to have spoken over him.

“Mr Baggins Sir! How _lovely_ to see you coming over here to speak to us!” Dori swooped in gracefully, his bright tone sounding slightly forced. “Can we help you in any way?”

“I, erm, I...” Bilbo stammered, caught by surprise by Dori’s sudden enthusiasm. This was _Dori_! Dori who glared whenever he came over to talk to Ori, Dori the eternal pessimist, Dori who normally turned away and sniffed whenever Bilbo tried to exchange words with him!

“I noticed you seemed a bit shivery a few nights ago,” Dori swept on regardless, “Perhaps another blanket!” He went to rummage in his pack, still babbling on about the “Such cold nights!” and the importance of keeping all the “Poor frozen hobbits!” warm. Bilbo side-eyed him in suspicion. What did he want? What had they been talking about? Was this an attempt to distract him? If so, it wasn’t going to wo–

Ooooooh. That was a nice blanket. Almost unconsciously he ran his hands over the thick material that had just been thrust into his arms. Dori looked on approvingly.

Bilbo bit his lip. “I... It is lovely.” It looked more than lovely. It was _gorgeous_. Bilbo wanted to roll up in it and make a hobbit cocoon. “But I’m sure that you need it as well! And Ori!” He recalled, how could he have forgotten young Ori? “If you truly don’t need it, then I’m certain Ori could have use of it, couldn’t you Ori?!” He’d feel like a cad, taking the thing when Ori certainly needed it too and besides, there was something fishy about this. Dori hadn’t cared two jots about him before, frozen or incinerated and now he was acting like this! An unused, spare cloak from Dwalin was one thing; this looked like it was actually cared about. Was this just some not-so-elaborate hoax? He’d have expected it of Fili and Kili, but Dori?

The hobbit glanced swiftly over at Ori to take in his view of things. Oh dear. He was doing his traumatised bunny rabbit impression again. Bilbo sighed. It’d be best just to end this nonsense quickly.

Fixing on his well practised ‘the-Sackville-Bagginses-are-being-nuisances-and-are-trying-and-failing-to-nick-my-silver-spoons again’ smile, Bilbo turned back to Dori. If he could handle all the social politics in the Shire, he could certainly handle one odd dwarf. “Thank you very much for the offer, Master Dori but actually I am fine. I am sure you will still have need of it and my pack is heavy enough as it is. Good night!” And, after neatly putting the - warm, amazing, why would he possibly refuse it? – blanket back, he left, returning to his log, blatantly ignoring both the Baggins screaming inside of him and the slow curling of guilt in his stomach.

It was of course abominable manners to reject a gift but Bilbo refused to believe that Dori had been offering it seriously. There must have been some kind of inside joke that he was missing, the hobbit reasoned. What’s more, he meant what he said about Ori needing it and Bilbo had his fine new coat too. The matter was thus settled in his mind. It was fine.

Bilbo shivered, despite his layers, as a gust of wind swept suddenly through the forest. It was _mostly_ fine. And cold. He tried to forget the slow curling of regret in his stomach.

Then he remembered that he hadn’t even remembered to ask Ori what had been the matter. Bother.

*******

“Fine?! Fine?!” Dori somehow managed to quietly screech. “Did you see that?! He shivered! Just then! I saw it!” Dori pointed slightly manically. “We offended him so much he wouldn’t even take a bloody blanket, when the poor thing’s shaking like a leaf! What are we going to do?”

Ori felt like his heart had fallen out of his chest and through his boots. Up until now, Bil- Mr Baggins had always been fairly friendly with him, despite their status gap. He thought of the way that his tone had suddenly changed once offered the blanket, from uncertainty to those distant manners and that artificial smile. The hobbit had probably thought they had been gossiping about him, Ori realised miserably. (Not to mention that in fact they had been.) Then for Dori to have randomly offered a _blanket_ of all things?! That wouldn’t have seemed suspicious _at all._ No wonder Mr Baggins had been offended. And to be honest it hadn’t been all Dori’s fault, no doubt that the blanket was simply the first good thing he could have thought of after Ori had been so rude! Speaking over Mr Baggins like that... _He_ had been the one really to force Dori to step in...

It also didn’t particularly help that the rest of the company didn’t even know yet and they had all been insulting him left, right and centre since the quest began, the annoying, little voice in Ori’s brain decided to remind him pointedly.

Well. It appeared that the company wouldn’t be winning Mr Baggin’s forgiveness easily. He supposed they would have to attempt to win his favour more subtly.

Subtlety.

Dwarrow.

Right.

They were doomed.

“We need to speak to Thorin.” He announced aloud, interrupting Dori’s quiet rant. It was truly a miracle that no other dwarf had appeared to notice the coat - which hopefully meant that they’d given the hobbit a break and hadn’t been near him enough to slight him too much since Bree - but they would find out eventually and Mahal, it certainly needed to be soon. Ori would go to Thorin.

It was high time the others discovered the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much everybody for the kudos, follows and comments! I'm so grateful for the response to this fic! :D 
> 
> I've decided not to post the plot bunny until the end of the fic actually, there's not much to it so you're not missing much and thank you to everybody who gave me advice in the comments regarding that. :)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter (I just seem to love writing worried!Ori but rest assured, next chapter there will be more characters and action and Gandalf is around too, I've not forgotten him!) and as always please review!

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and kudos feed my pet dragon. Please REVIEW or he may start eating the villagers!


End file.
